Claiming Black Lung: Towards an Appalachian Disability Justice
The black lung movement shows that disability functions as a powerful force in creating cultural groups.
The Future is Another Country
The black lung movement shows that disability functions as a powerful force in creating cultural groups.
I heard someone who was a professional Christian for a living explain why they were not a part of the community that their ministry served.
Emphasis on organizing along lines of difference as a collective has caused organizations in the South and Appalachia to experience violent backlash.
The Activist History Review invites proposals for our May 2019 issue, “Recovering Queer Histories in Unexpected Places.”
The American public university is being destroyed, much as central Appalachia in many places was destroyed. It’s being stripped down and sold for parts. And the people in power do not care.
I’m becoming. I’m becoming authentic. I’m becoming solid in the fact that I am good at my job, that I deserve to be in front of these students each day, just as much as any white, cishet male counterparts with degrees from way up North. I’m becoming solid in the understanding that by accepting my own identities (and the privileges and oppressions that come with them) I can clear space for my students to do the same.
I have found that academia can offer a lower-class West Virginian from a single-mother family the chance to live an illusion. I have been able to travel countries, gain audiences of affluent scholars, and been given a platform for my voice that I would not have received outside of academia.
A few weeks ago I wrote an op-ed for The Washington Post’s “Made by History” series about gun violence and white supremacy. I expected some backlash, and I got it.
When this goes down in history, we don’t want the story to be that teachers went on a nine-day strike. We want the story to be that this was the beginning of a snowball effect of wonderful things happening for West Virginia. I think that in order for that to happen, we have to “Remember in November.”
By the time I left Huntington, I was well known for my outspoken activism related to sexual violence. My first rapist’s name was synonymous with my own, tied to the places he worked and the people who shielded him.